


don't trust me

by lifefindsaway



Category: Marvel
Genre: (it's not graphic though), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, look at that imaginative title wow, spoilers for age of ultron if you've not seen it, vague mentions of brainwashing/human experimentation/etc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 13:38:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3938827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifefindsaway/pseuds/lifefindsaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>from the prompt:</p>
<p>"don't trust me." pietro/reader or pietro/darcy lewis (if you don't do readers im gonna respect that) in the soulmark au where soulmates are born with their first words to one another. as a part of the hydra experimentation, pietro was "conditioned" to kill anyone who says his words (up to you how bad the "conditioning" is) and then they forcefully removed his words from his skin. angst ensues upon their first meeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't trust me

A compound is built, a call for volunteers goes out.

“Young recruits, between the ages of thirteen and nineteen,” says a man in a sharp, dark uniform. He has a hard face, a cold light in his eye. His accent makes his words seem more clipped, harsh. Many of the children shrink from him; Pietro leans forward. “It is a glorious thing we do for you, for your homeland. When we are finished with our work here, you will be a strong nation capable of defending yourself against any and all threats.”

Wanda tugs at Pietro’s sleeve, and he glances over at her.

“Make no mistake,” the man continues. “It will be dangerous. Perhaps some of you shall die. If you die, you will die knowing that you have given your life for your people. You will be heroes.”

Wanda tilts her head slightly and Pietro knows her mind is made up. She has come to the same decision he made the moment this man stepped forward and began to speak. Still, Pietro hesitates, gives Wanda enough time to make sure she wants to do this.

“We will do this thing,” she says, voice loud and clear, and she moves through the crowd, Pietro close at her side. “My brother and I, we will go with you.”

The man looks them both over and smiles. It’s unsettling. “ _Excellent_.”

*** 

His sister laughs at him for days.

“English,” Pietro says, frowning at the words creeping across his ribs. He knows enough to get by, but he’s never been as good as Wanda at picking up on languages. He knows what most of the words mean individually, but doesn’t really understand what they mean in combination.

“It’s good,” Wanda says, as she catches her breath. She waves a hand. “No, really, it’s good. Perfect for you, brother. I think I’ll like your other half.”

No matter how hard Pietro tries, he can’t convince Wanda to translate his words for him, or to give him an idea of why they’re so funny. It becomes instinct to scowl any time she laughs, which she finds even more amusing.

Pietro spends a lot of time scowling at his sister and, for a little while at least, she spends a lot of time laughing.

They’re almost happy. 

*** 

Pietro stands in front of the tall mirror in his room, twisting this way and that, examining his skin. There are no scars, no raised skin, not even any discoloration to mark the places bullets pierced his skin. He traces his fingers over his abdomen, remembers blood staining his shirt. He drops his hand, turns again to look at his back in the mirror.

There are no scars to mark _that_ moment in his life, the one time that he tried to do something selfless and good, but there are plenty of other scars documenting his years with Strucker and with HYDRA.

He hates those scars.

They are a part of him now, the same way that his pale hair is. He’s not as accepting of them as he is his hair, though, these visible reminders of how foolish he and his sister were, and how naïve.

Most of all, he hates the scar that marks the place his words used to be.

He can’t imagine his soul’s other half would want him after what he’s done, but his words had been such a comfort. When they took him from his sister, when he was scared or hurt, when he couldn’t make sense of the world around him and why it seemed to move so slowly he thought he might go mad, his words reminded him that someone was waiting for him still.

He slips on a shirt and jogs out of his room, eager for a distraction.

*** 

Wanda never tells him exactly what it is they do to her in the compound, but when they are reunited, he can feel her in his mind.

_You must behave_ , she tells him, her eyes wide. _I don’t want to be parted from you again_.

“How—”

_Think_ , she instructs him. _Don’t speak aloud._ The soldiers monitoring them shift, move closer, but Wanda ignores them, so Pietro does too. _They’ve done to me what they’ve done to you, haven’t they? Are your gifts not the same?_

Pietro shakes his head minutely. “No.” Then, _I mean, no. I—it’s been hard. I’m not sure it worked for me._

_What do you mean?_

Pietro bites his cheek. He can taste blood. _If this_ —he gives Wanda a pointed look— _was their goal, I failed._ They have seen other failures. Strucker, who they now know runs the compound, has made sure they are aware of what happens to those who fail.

_You can’t_. Wanda looks calm, but even without her in his mind he knows how she is panicking. Her hand trembles a little when she lays it on his arm. _Pietro, you can’t_.

_I won’t leave you_ , he promises. _I’ll make this work_.

***

When they were very young, Pietro had been adamantly against the entire concept of a soulmate.

“What do I need one of those for?” he’d asked disdainfully, and his mother had laughed. “I have Wanda. I don’t need someone _else_ to tell me what to do.”

“You’ll see, my darling,” his mother had said, and she ran her fingers through his hair. “When you’re older, you’ll understand.”

***

The New Avengers facility is big.

Pietro would feel ill at ease with the uniformed agents marching around, except that this building is flat and open and bright, as opposed to the compound in which Strucker had based his operations. Besides, Wanda likes it, and she’s a good judge of these things; even before she had her gifts to help divine the intentions of others, she was unusually perceptive.

He goes looking for her now.

Probably, she is with the Vision somewhere. It fascinates her, the Vision, in ways that Pietro can’t comprehend.

(“His mind is unlike any other,” she’d said, and Pietro had found it terribly, irritatingly vague and didn’t ask again.)

He picks up his pace, moving from a sedate jog into a full run. Pietro prefers this—it’s the only time that the world moves at the right speed, and it gives him reason not to speak to anyone else unless he chooses to speak.

In one of the kitchens, he spies long dark hair, and he slides to a stop, only to realize a half second later that this isn’t his sister. Before he can take off, the girl turns to look at him, her mouth a little startled _o_ , and says, “Sonic’s got nothing on you, man! I’m telling you, I thought the ‘really fast’ thing was just an unflattering euphemism or something—I mean, it’s not like any of the footage was clear, you know?—but, woah, was I wrong in the best kind of way.”

Pietro has her pressed up against the counter before he can think twice about it. He’s got a knife pressed against her throat, hard enough a faint red line marks her skin, and she is very still under his hand.

“Sorry,” she says quietly, her voice low and her eyes wide. “Wasn’t trying to piss you off, I swear.”

The knife is wrenched out of his hand and he’s pulled away.

The god, Thor, and the captain are there. The girl has something—her phone, maybe—in hand. Thor is checking on her, while the captain keeps a firm grip on Pietro.

“You want to tell me what you’re doing?” the captain demands.

Pietro easily pulls himself free, tries to reach the girl again. He can’t get past Thor.

“Maximoff!” the captain says. “Stand down!”

Pietro looks from the girl’s frightened expression, to Thor’s furious glare and the captain’s narrowed gaze. He inhales sharply, then turns and runs.

*** 

Wanda never had any words. She still doesn’t.

“It was her,” Pietro says, and it takes conscious effort to pace slowly enough that Wanda can still see and hear him. He feels like he might vibrate out of his own skin, he’s so worked up. “She said my words.”

“She doesn’t know,” Wanda says, reliving the moment with Pietro. She frowns when Pietro thinks of running away. “You didn’t speak to her.”

“I _can’t_ speak to her,” Pietro says, coming to a sudden stop. He feels sick. “I can’t be around her. I—” His eyes burn, to his shame. When was the last time he cried? He’d been so certain HYDRA had cured him of that habit. “I’ll kill her.”

Wanda is silent, but he can feel her in his mind, a soothing, warm presence.

_You’re lucky you have no words_ , he tells her. _You’re lucky they could not use that against you_. He’s never wanted Wanda to know about the machines and the tests, never told her about losing his words. He’s never mentioned the things Strucker said about efficiency and control, and the danger inherent in the phrase along his ribs.

Even now, he tries to think of anything else, but he can tell when she picks up on what he’s trying to conceal.

“Pietro,” she says, her voice thick with emotion, and she slips her arms over his shoulders and draws him down into a tight hug.

*** 

“Darcy Lewis,” Wanda says, a little while later, once she’s had time to calm Pietro, to settle him in her rooms, and to go investigate. “Her name is Darcy Lewis.”

“Darcy,” Pietro repeats. He wishes he’d learned the name from Darcy rather than from his sister.

“She’s very confused,” Wanda continues. “She was asking about you. She thinks she has offended you.” Wanda hovers in the doorway, then shuts the door behind her with a click and comes to sit beside him on the edge of her bed. “Captain Rogers is concerned. He’s seen this before.” She says the last quietly. It must be something she saw in his mind, rather than something the captain shared with her.

“I don’t know what to do.” Pietro pulls his fingers through his hair, fidgeting, then admits, “I knew what I was doing. I could see myself doing it and I kept saying to myself, ‘Good. This is good.’” When he closes his eyes, he can see Darcy looking at him in fear. He doesn’t know her, but she must be strong, he thinks. She handled the situation well.

“I want to try something,” Wanda says. “Do you trust me?”

Pietro doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to answer for his sister to know the answer is _With my life, yes_.

“‘Sonic’s got nothing on you, man,’” his sister says. Her inflection is flat, the words strange in her mouth. It’s not at all like it was when Darcy said them. And yet—

And yet Pietro has his hands around her throat, has her pinned to the wall.

Wanda lifts an arm, forces Pietro to let go. “That is what I thought,” she says evenly, as though she isn’t at all worried that Pietro tried to kill her. He’s probably worried enough for the both of them.

“What do you mean?”

“That phrase,” she says. “Your words. They compel you to attack.”

Pietro thinks again of the things Strucker told him, particularly when it came to his words. Pietro’s not certain that Strucker had all of his soldiers’ words taken, or if he was a special case. He’s not certain it matters.

“For now,” Wanda says, “we avoid that phrase. Perhaps Captain Rogers will have a better solution. Until then, it should be easy to keep from saying those words to you, yes? They are unique.”

*** 

There is no reason why Darcy should agree to meet Pietro again, but she does.

“Sorry about last time,” she says, offering him a tentative smile. “In retrospect, I could’ve started with ‘Hi, I’m Darcy. How are you?’” She pauses, then sticks out a hand. “Hi, I’m Darcy. How are you?”

“Don’t trust me,” Pietro says. He doesn’t take her hand. “I mean, you shouldn’t trust me.”

Darcy turns her hand over. There, along her wrist, are the words _Don’t trust me_ in dark letters. “You know, the quickest way to get me to do something is to tell me not to do the thing,” she says. She leans forward and takes Pietro’s hand anyway, giving it a gentle squeeze.

There’s a mark across her neck that Pietro made with a _knife_ and he pulls his hand away. “This is not a good idea.”

“You don’t look like a ‘good idea’ kind of guy, if you know what I mean,” Darcy says, folding her arms across her chest defensively. “You look like a ‘bad idea and I know it but I’m gonna go with it anyway’ kind of guy.”

Pietro shrugs, looks away. He thinks about telling Darcy about Strucker and the tests and his missing words, but he can’t bring himself to do it. She already knows he isn’t quite right. She doesn’t have to know the full extent of it all.

“Right,” Darcy says when Pietro remains silent. This time when she smiles, she looks sad. “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be around. Just, come and find me, okay?"

He waits until Darcy leaves, and then he rushes off, muscles burning he’s going so fast. It doesn’t feel fast enough.


End file.
